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Mark Zuckerberg Is A Millennial Hero And I Don’t Understand Why

Brendan Bures
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Mark Zuckerberg Is A Millennial Hero And I Don’t Understand Why

Mark Zuckerberg is a millennial hero. This information comes to us, courtesy of a GoDaddy survey aimed at global entrepreneurs.

According to the study, 40% of millennials label Facebook CEO Mark Zuckerberg as their role model. Comparatively, just 21% of Gen X considers Zuckerberg a role model while 24% of Boomers would say the same.

The statistics are almost flipped when it comes to the former No. 1 role model answer: parents. A majority 44% of Boomers labeled parents as their aspirant model; a still significant 39% figure for Gen X and just 30% for millennials.

My initial reaction to this information was simple: My generation is lost. The guy who literally only wears gray shirts and jeans every day? This is our hero? Usually I’d be using literally in that way most Internet writers do—as hyperbole. An exaggerated adverb, if you will. But nope: Dude literally only wears gray shirts and hoodies, also gray, though a different shade. Mr. 50 Shades of Slightly Lighter Gray. This is our hero.

Maybe fashion isn’t that important to you, though. He’s a business hero, not a fashion icon. That’s fine, though millennials really love fashion. Still, that’s fine. This is our hero.

But would it change your mind if I pointed you in the direction of this incredible PopSci profile? It includes a wonderful infographic detailing Zuckerberg’s pet project: a virtual pal that modifies insane levels of detail in his house. For example: “His ‘assistant’ can predict when Zuckerberg will want to eat breakfast on any given day, and time the toaster accordingly.”

Wasn’t that an episode of Black Mirror? Also, you’re worth billions of dollars and still eat self-prepared toast for breakfast? Come on, fam. Stop trying to change the world when you clearly need to take some time to work on yourself, Zuck. But, er, excuse me: This is our hero.

What about Zuckerberg’s latest business obsession: virtual reality. From that same PopSci profile, he explains urging Facebook to buy VR Company Oculus Rift for $2 billion in 2014. Not cheap. But like the overnight ubiquity of smartphones, he believes VR and its derivatives—augmented reality, mixed reality—are the future.

Instead of wasting useless money on boardroom monitors and classroom projectors, we will invest in VR programs that will project this and other information to be stored in various clouds. Think Pokemon Go, but the Pokemon are spreadsheets and figures and models and precious, precious data. How long will until this transformation radicalizes? “As he sees it, in just 10 years’ time, ‘VR will be a mainstream-computing platform.’ ” Zuckerberg said.

Facebook already dictates insane levels of control over media, now it will control all the media. It will push us to live in worlds akin to live in Ready Player One or The Matrix or eXistenZ. Why am I the only one freaking out!? I forgot: This is our hero.

Why? Because he made a bunch of money after befriending Justin Timberlake and screwing over Andrew Garfield (or something along those lines). You want a business mogul? A role model who started with literally nothing and not like a Harvard education? What about Jay Z! Sure, TIDAL isn’t doing that hot currently, but he’s surely better than Zuck, our hero, lord, and savior. Zuckerberg didn’t make “Heart of the City.” He didn’t rap “Hard Knock Life (Ghetto Anthem).” He didn’t record the kind of indisputable best party anthem “Big Pimpin’.”

I want to be like the guy who recorded “Big Pimpin’.” But maybe I’m just like Frank Ocean; I can’t relate to my peers. I’m not brave. Zuckerberg is a millennial hero and I’ll never understand why.

Sugar Tit, Balltown, and Butts: Here Are America’s Dirtiest Town Names

Taylor Berman
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Sugar Tit, Balltown, and Butts: Here Are America’s Dirtiest Town Names

Thanks to the people at Estately, we now know the lewdest-sounding town names in each state. The rudest states, in no particular order, are Wisconsin (Dick), Iowa (Balltown), South Carolina (Sugar Tit), California (Rough & Ready), and Ohio (Pee Pee Township).

But the most surprising thing, to me at least, is how well the towns in neighboring states pair up. For example, Lubers, Colorado, is right next to Dry Wood, Kansas, while Spread Eagle, Wisconsin, is just a few miles northeast of Balltown, Iowa. And Comertown, Montana, sits right on top of Dickshooter, Idaho, with Short Pump, Virginia, straddling Climax, North Carolina.

The state with the most dirty-sounding town names is West Virginia, which has 27 (Bald Knob, Beech Bottom, Big Chimney, Big Sandy, Brohard, Cloverlick, Concepcion, Cougar, Cougar Valley, Cucumber, Droop, Floe, Johnson Crossroads, Knobs, Lick Creek, Longpole, Mercers Bottom, Nutterville, Organ Cave, Pickle Street, Pinch, Pipestern, Rimel, Romance, Sandlick, Stony Bottom, Wood). The state with the fewest is Hawaii, which only has one (Honaunau-Napoopoo).

For the full list, head over to Estately.

Posted By: Taylor Berman

How to Get Away with Murder

Drug Policy Alliance
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How to Get Away with Murder

At The Fresh Toast, we believe that the War on Drugs is an epic failure. We believe that marijuana consumers do not belong behind bars. As a general rule, we take a lighter approach to the news, but sometimes current events lend themselves to something a little different. 

Today, the Drug Policy Alliance, the nation’s leading organization promoting drug policies that are grounded in science, compassion, health and human rights, published the following editorial. We offer it up as a way to encourage conversation. 

How to Get Away with Murder

  • Step one: Make sure you have a badge and the person you are murdering is black
  • Step two: Add drugs

Terence Crutcher was gunned down by a law enforcement officer on Friday after his car broke down in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Video captures him walking towards his car with his hands in the air. Moments later he was crumpled on the road with little indication of alarm or effort to provide him aid. He was unarmed, forty-years-old and black. The police officers on the scene appeared to have waited more than two and half minutes before approaching Crutcher as he lay bleeding.

This horrific incident comes on the heels of a stream of graphic, traumatizing video accounts of police violence and a national climate of racism, denial and mistrust. The police officer who fired her gun at Terence Crutcher, Betty Shelby, and the officer who stunned him with a Taser, Tyler Turnbough, have both been put on administrative leave with pay.

Last week, the Drug Policy Alliance and Revolve Impact released a video on the New York Times website that was illustrated by artist Molly Crabapple and narrated by the legendary rapper and entrepreneur Jay Z. The video got major attention and spread all over the internet like wildfire. Part of this can be attributed to the allure of celebrity but it’s also because Jay Z’s message struck a very deep chord: Black and brown people are routinely targeted with gross impunity and cruelty by law enforcement and the drug war invariably plays a huge role in the problem.

One need look no further than Terence Crutcher’s death to see how this plays out. As was the case with Trayvon Martin and Sandra Bland, we are seeing that the early signs in the process of publicly defaming his character involve accusations of drug use.

Tulsa police are now saying that officers found PCP in Terence Crutcher’s car. This seems like another convenient example of pathological tendencies on the part of law enforcement to use drugs as an excuse to do whatever they want.

Even though people of all races use and sell drugs at roughly the same rates, black and Latino people are overwhelming the majority of those arrested and convicted for non-violent drug offenses. This is because the drug war has been an inherently racist policy that gives cops free reign to unfairly target people of color. We can no longer attempt to delude ourselves that police are the “good guys,” whom we can trust to make split second decisions about who the “bad guys” are and who should live or die on the basis of race, body type, class and oh yes, of course, implied drug use.

This editorial was written by Sharda Sekaran, the managing director of communications for the Drug Policy Alliance.

Sex, Drugs, And Privilege: How The Movie ‘White Girl’ Frames Race

Brendan Bures
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Sex, Drugs, And Privilege: How The Movie ‘White Girl’ Frames Race

Many films that critics label “exploitative” don’t go far enough. Such was the case with Harmony Korine’s Spring Breakers, a Skrillex-induced fever dream about three girls willing to chase their next high wherever it may lead them, even if that meant James Franco’s cornrows. It was also fetishizing a kind of privileged millennial fun—excessive, wistfully ignorant, lots of bong hits, and guarded, knowing a safety net might catch them wherever they fall. Near the end, when two girls don cloth masks to raid drug dealers, you get the meta-joke. Playing pretend, they are.

But before that, those girls see off their other friend, Selena Gomez’s Faith, and without her, also see off a more interesting movie. It turns camp, those girls killing black gangsters—including rapper Gucci Mane, of all people—and while still a fun ride, loses its previous vérité thrill. It reminds you a fact you almost forgot: you’re watching a movie with a road map, not the boundless quasi-documentary it portrays in the beginning.

None of those lapses appear in Elizabeth Wood’s new White Girl, her debut feature. It’s been called the millennial Kids, another “exploitative” Kormine film (his first screenplay), and it’s an apt comparison.

The movie follows Leah, a white girl who moves to Bridgewood, Queens, one summer as she prepares to attend Hunter College. But school barely registers as important; we never see her in class. She has no objective other than finding fun. When the magazine editor at her internship asks of her future plans, you can tell it’s the first time she’s even considered that prospective. Leah replies that she wants some job “in media,” and she seems proud of her answer.

Practically giddy, she asks to score some weed, like it was some game.

The film’s primary concern lies in its title; examining the privilege of being a white girl. When Leah approaches the Puerto Rican drug dealers on her block, it dances within her attitude. Practically giddy, she asks to score some weed, like it was some game. Soon enough she engages in a relationship with “Blue”—sex against the wall of her apartment’s rooftop, sex while riding in a cab, sex in the bathroom. While Blue repeats his genuine affection toward Leah, it’s not hard guessing what she’s in it for.

Blissfully unaware of the implications, Leah invites her new drug dealer boyfriend and his buddies to a Manhattan media party, where they can sell product at a marked-up price to yuppies. Wood makes watching these classes abut one another subversively uncomfortable; for the heights their shared hedonism reaches, a smug entitlement wafts through the white Manhattanites. This is their world, and they’re allowing these people of color to visit and only because they possess something they want: a white girl and that white, girl. Afterwards, they’ll return where they came from. All the while, Leah chooses willful ignorance that any of this is happening.

But a girl like that, vengefully pursuing her musings, is intoxicating. Whatever ongoing party she’s having, you want in. Morgan Saylor, who plays Leah, draws you in. She’s absolutely explosive in the film. Her face is like a rubber band: limp, slack when she’s unaroused, but liable to snap when that toothy smile stretches her face. Her movements flutter with provocation, every conversation she has full of flirtatious purring. She embodies that sought-after free spirit ideal, but it’s tinged with an awareness. She can only act this way—and like those Spring Breakers, it assuredly is an act—because she knows as dark and depraved as things may seem, this world she’s in protects white girls. Why? Because it desires them so.

But this shield crumbles once she becomes a serious player in the underworld she previously just visited. Boyfriend Blue gets set up and arrested, leaving Leah in possession of 10 ounces of cocaine. A guilty conscience captures Leah and, to afford Blue a lawyer, begins selling the drugs herself. You fear the film’s about to make a turn for the worse. Will she become the, sigh, white savior? Or will White Girl turn preachy with its politics?

Instead, Wood steers her film into further debauchery. It’s a deft move. She knows that stimulant nerve newcomers feel in New York City. That sense of possibility, that intensity. Reportedly, the movie’s based on Wood’s own experiences, moving from a small town into the city. From the film’s first frame Wood shoots close ups frequently, peering in, where other directors might pull back. Instead it’s about the fun, the faces, and the freedom she desperately doesn’t want to give up. Whatever’s going on around her—where we know the danger lurks—just gets pushed past the edges.

So Leah parties more, she hooks up with other men. She snorts every line, every bump of coke possible. All in a fruitless attempt to chase that feeling. But like all benders, it goes on too long. The fun hollows out, proves depthless. Leah plays too loose and fast, meeting her match in white men, who callously exploit her naivety. She employs her magazine editor to help sell product, but when she gets sick, puking on his shirt during a sexual romp, he just leaves her in a nightclub bathroom. She awakes there, and the money’s gone. When Leah confronts him, he shrugs it off, saying, “It’s only money.”

Much depravity and debauchery spirals out from there. And where does Leah end up? The classroom, finally. But by then, she’s already earned her education. The world has and always will view her as a white girl. Now she knows what that really means.

Teacher To Student: “Why Don’t You Lick Me Where I Fart?”

TFT Editors
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Teacher To Student: “Why Don’t You Lick Me Where I Fart?”

A Canadian high school teacher has been suspended and faces possible termination this week for allegedly berating students with questions like, “Why don’t you lick me where I fart?”

Jennifer Elizabeth Green-Johnson teaches 10th and 12th grade English at Ontario’s Dunnville Secondary School, where she has a history of inappropriate behavior with students. According to the Discipline Committee of the Ontario College of Teachers (vis US Weekly), Green-Johnson is being investigated for allegedly doing the following terrible things during just the 2015/16 school year alone:

  • told a student who brought coffee to class, “Get that fucking thing out of here.”
  • while talking to a student about a piece of gum, said, “Why don’t you lick me where i fart?”
  • called a student a “bloody pedophile”
  • told a student, “I have never said this to a student before but fuck you”
  • told students that a particular student would, “stare at my daughter’s ass”
  • told a student, “You mean a bribe? I’d be able to shit for a week ’cause of all that fiber,” after the student offered to buy her muffins in exchange for a passing grade
  • told her class that a female student “looked like a frumpy old lady”

A truly impressive year for this awful, awful teacher! Her punishment for this supremely messed-up behavior was a six-day suspension, which she served in February. She was also suspended for an incident in 2011, when she asked a male student who’d she caught wrestling with another male student, “So you like it from behind?” That same year, she reportedly said you couldn’t see a certain actor’s penis “without a microscope,” threatened to physically strike students for not sitting down, and “made accidental contact with (a student’s) groin, causing him to fall to the ground in tears.”

Green-Johnson, who has also been suspended for a month without pay, will face the Ontario College of Teachers on Friday. The Toronto Star notes that the college can revoke Green-Johnson’s teaching certificate, which seems like they least they should do.

One lingering question for us: aren’t all Canadians supposed to be nice?

Posted By: Taylor Berman

In Praise Of Street Meat

Maccabee Montandon
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In Praise Of Street Meat

You meet friends for drinks after work on a Tuesday night. You haven’t seen them in a few months. It feels like a party. So you start with whiskey. You know you shouldn’t start with whiskey—or, perhaps, have any whiskey at all that night—but you do, anyway. Then one friend buys a round. More whiskey. Another friend buys you a beer. Tuesday night has just begun.

The next morning, you feel surprisingly good. You check and find that all your limbs are still working. So good, in fact, you decide to go for your usual run in the park. No one would’ve given you shit for skipping it this morning, but you feel pretty good, so you run. It’s not terrible. Early fall in New York City, and the park is beautiful. You see actual leaves fall to the actual ground. Fall. A melancholy in a good way feeling floods your insides. You think about cozy sweaters. And fireplaces. Nico songs. Your children at the pumpkin patch. End-of-year movies. In that order.

You get to work and start working. It’s going fine, but around 10:30 in the morning you can feel your brain fading. You pound glasses of water. Take a couple Advils. That helps for an hour. Then your stomach gets very angry with you. Like, pissed. Why would you do that to me, it grumbles. And what are you going to do to fix this?

You look around the office. A line of faces, shiny from laptop screens. Not one of those other people is currently eating lunch, you notice. Forget those suckers, your stomach snaps. Get up and walk, bub. You wonder why your stomach talks like a gangster in a 1940s Hollywood noir, but you do what it says.

Outside, the clouds in your head are swirling. It’s getting hazy behind your eyes. Food. Where is the food, you wonder. You speed-walk up the block, anxiously scanning the urban horizon. And then you remember: street meat. Street. Meat. It might just work! On the corner, near where you take the subway. Once you have this thought, you are powerless to its sick, savory charms. Chicken over rice, lots of white sauce, a splash of hot sauce. This is from a kitchen cart on wheels, not one of them fancy food trucks.

You have no idea what the white sauce is made of and, at that moment, you don’t care. (Later, you will Google it.) You find the closest park bench and break the styrofoam box opening the top. You eat. Fast. Shoveling the sinewy meat in a manner that brings to mind the way Woody Allen’s character scarfs rice in Play It Again, Sam.

Before you toss the tiny, plastic fork onto the now empty styrofoam, the clouds have started to lift. You realize you are going to make it. The street meat has worked.

You aren’t proud—your kids, after all, have gone vegetarian, as have all the children of Brooklyn, and you told them it was a good idea, that you were proud of them. You know all about the health, environmental, and ethical benefits of not eating meat. You love The Smiths.

But this had to happen. You had to do this. There are other hangover cures, of course, but on this day they were not for you. You had to let the street meat save you. And it did. And it was good. And there was light.

Anthony Bourdain Wants The Pumpkin Spice Craze To ‘Drown In Its Own Blood’

Amy Hansen
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Anthony Bourdain Wants The Pumpkin Spice Craze To ‘Drown In Its Own Blood’

One day after it was announced he was divorcing his wife of nine years, Anthony Bourdain hopped on reddit to do an AMA (Ask Me Anything). He took this photo as proof it was him behind the keyboard:

Some of the many, many highlights include:

ab-scared
Photo screenshot via IAmAnthonyBourdain on reddit
ab-obama
Photo screenshot via IAmAnthonyBourdain on reddit
ab-foodcities
Photo screenshot via IAmAnthonyBourdain on reddit
ab-comfortfoods
Photo screenshot via IAmAnthonyBourdain on reddit
screen-shot-2016-09-21-at-8-19-37-am
Photo screenshot via IAmAnthonyBourdain on reddit
ab-foodtrends
Photo screenshot via IAmAnthonyBourdain on reddit

Other notes of interest within the nearly 10,000 comments that crammed the string before Bourdain ran out of time and whiskey:

  • He likes cooking shows, specifically Top Chef, but, “On the other hand, they’ve created an entire species of cook, who really doesn’t want to work in a restaurant; they just want to be on TV. And that’s always worrying.”
  • Of all the places in the world he’d like to retire, he’d choose Italy.
  • The best tostada in the world is in Ensenada in Baja in Mexico at a place called La Guerrerense.
  • The three people he’d like to have dinner with: Louise Brooks, Orson Welles, and James Angleton, the former head of capital intelligence for the CIA.
  • He’d love to film a show with Keith Richards.

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Potiquette: Can I Show Up To A Work Party High ?

Penelope Potter
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Potiquette: Can I Show Up To A Work Party High ?

Dear Ms. Pot,

Next weekend, my office is having a pool party. First, I just have to say: office + pool parties = bad combo. (Do I really need to see my manager in his bathing suit? Or—shudder—Bob in accounting?) There will be beer and burgers, I hear. Volleyball. They want us to bond. Should I show up stoned? Would that make it better?

Love,

Colleen in California

—————-

Dear Colleen in California,

I agree. Bikinis and bosses do not belong together, for a variety of reasons. But … as much as I’d like to say, ‘Sure! Show up high! It’s a party!’ I can’t, in good conscious, advise any employee to arrive at work in an altered state. And despite the beers and the burgers and the bare-chested middle-aged men, this is still work—you’ll just be sitting in chlorine instead of cubicles. People that work together, drink together, that’s always been true. But when’s the last time a colleague popped by your desk and asked, “Hey, want to get high after work?” Society isn’t quite there yet. Give it time! That said, I do think—depending who you’re with, and what profession you’re in—you could bring a little with you. (Finance? No. Publishing? Yes. Tech? Well, Apple no. Spotify, yes.) One of my favorite surreptitious offsite moments involved a lake, a canoe, and a (fully dressed) 50-something, joint-carrying colleague. I admit: it made the otherwise awkward work party way more palatable.

Hope that helps, and have fun!

Ms. Pot

Hey, Fresh Toast readers and Potiquette fans! As marijuana continues its march to nationwide legal status, there are bound to be many, ahem, sticky questions and issues that come up. We’ve already looked at burning issues like if it’s okay to get high with your dad? And what happens when your dinner party host is slow to bust out the weed? We’re guessing you have your own questions for Penelope—so let her hear what’s on your mind! Email a question or two on anything marijuana related to: share@thefreshtoast.com and she will likely feature it on the site! Thanks for reading!

17 Sports Mascots That Are Enjoyable to Think About While High

TFT Editors
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17 Sports Mascots That Are Enjoyable to Think About While High

Watching sports while high isn’t for everyone. Some people love it—to them it adds something to the experience, allowing new insights about the level and types of plays. Others find it distracting, and prefer to enjoy their favorite team sober, or maybe with a beer or two. But watching sports teams mascots while high? That’s something everyone can agree is great. Funny looking critters with big heads, wacky dinosaurs, spooky fish—it’s almost like they were created to be enjoyed by stoners and not, you know, children. But what mascots are the best to think of after smoking weed? Glad you asked.

1) Rocky, from the Denver Nuggets: This poor guy once got so (literally) high that he passed out and was lowered to the ground in an unconscious state. Thankfully, he survived, and he continues to delight legally stoned fans at every Nuggets home game to this day.

2) The Raptor, from the Toronto Raptors: Any mascot that swallows cheerleaders whole and repeatedly eats shit while rollerblading, and whose costume is occasionally an inflatable dinosaur suit, is okay with me.

3). WuShock, from Wichita State University: This anthropomorphic shock of wheat that looks like it emerged directly from hell has been terrifying innocent Kansans for generations. Despite its Trumpian hair and evil mouth, this is a good mascot that absolutely does not send me spiraling into a pit of endless anxiety and despair. Great work, Wichita.

https://www.instagram.com/p/BBEcWQ8MTDJ/?taken-by=goshockers

4). Banana Slug, from UC Santa Cruz: It’s hard to think of a mascot better aligned with a stoner’s mentality than a Banana Slug. It’s also hard to think of a less intimidating representation of a sports team. Is UC Santa Cruz any good at athletics? Impossible to say. But they are fantastic at mascots.

https://www.instagram.com/p/BGXHvUxpfl7/?taken-by=ucsc

5). Mr. Met, from the New York Mets: The Mets are, historically speaking, a sad franchise. But their iconic mascot inspires nothing but joy. What’s not to like about a mascot whose head is a giant, grinning baseball?

https://www.instagram.com/p/BG40sdNIWL3/?taken-by=mets

6) Blowfish, from the Lexington County Blowfish: Sea creatures are underrepresented as mascots. Thankfully, the Lexington County Blowfish, an amateur collegiate summer league team based out of South Carolina, employ a bizarre Blowfish as their team rep. Here he is trying to swing a bat, and here he is trying to steal a child. What a fish!

https://www.instagram.com/p/BDOT0glMEcb/?taken-by=goblowfish

https://www.instagram.com/p/3wzigNsEQP/?taken-by=goblowfish

7) Muddy the Mudcat, from the Carolina Mudcats: Muddy the Mudcat may have been born in a silt-filled river, but he feels most at home on the baseball field, popping wheelies on four-wheelers in front adoring crowds. Should you trust a fish than can walk on two legs and do extreme sports? No, definitely not. But for some reason I trust Muddy.

https://www.instagram.com/p/BFJl5LIByzn/?taken-by=carolinamudcats

https://www.instagram.com/p/BFCivqJByxw/?taken-by=carolinamudcats

8) Brutus the Buckeye, from Ohio State University: Anthropomorphic nuts are another rarity in the world of mascots, but that’s not the only reason Brutus is a special mascot. Just take a look at his crooked grin and those gigantic dead eyes—even a Michigan fan couldn’t hate a blank-faced idiot like that .

https://www.instagram.com/p/BEmyknQkQyf/?taken-by=theohiostatefootball

9) Raymond, from the Tampa Bay Rays: What is Raymond? I have no idea. He’s covered in blue fur, with long tufts of grey hair shaggily dangling from his face and ears, with no resemblance to a ray or to an average Tampa resident. Whatever he is, his avuncular alien vibe makes him seem like an alright dude.

10) Grizz, from the Memphis Grizzlies: Of all the bear-related teams in sports, the Memphis Grizzlies have the best mascot. He looks tough and cool and capable of dunking after doing several backflips. Clark the Cub needs to step up his game.

https://www.instagram.com/p/-hF1XnkR0X/?taken-by=grizzofficial

11) Mr. Redlegs, from the Cincinnati Reds: With his oversized Vaudevillian mustache and huge, hypnotic eyes, Mr. Redlegs looks like Mr. Mets’ drunk great-grandfather. What does he have to do with Cincinnati or the Reds? No one we asked seems to know.

https://www.instagram.com/p/BHlM1eCA4Rm/?taken-by=megan_fenno

https://www.instagram.com/p/BIS54XQhdG0/?taken-by=reds

12) Phoenix Suns Gorilla, from the Phoenix Suns: This ape can do it all: He can carry rocks, spin a basketball on his finger, bang a drum, ride a motorcycle, dunk, drunk through a hoop that’s on fire, and carry a birthday cake. No mascot does more, or looks cooler doing it.

https://www.instagram.com/p/-nKKNiOONq/?taken-by=sunsgorilla

13) Ragnar the Viking, from the Minnesota Vikings: Ragnar is the real deal, in that he’s the only of these mascots that’s an actual human. Sure, he dresses like a viking, rides a huge motorcycle across U.S. Bank Stadium’s field, and often waves around an ancient battle ax, but he’s not hiding behind a mask or dressed like an anthropomorphic nut. Sadly, a contract dispute may have ended Ragnar’s reign in Minnesota.

https://www.instagram.com/p/elCX6_nl_K/

14) Otto the Orange, from Syracuse University: Nothing flashy about Otto: He’s merely an orange with arms, legs, and a hat. If simplicity alone won championships, Otto would have dozens of rings.

https://www.instagram.com/p/1i0jFZm3Qk/?taken-by=syracuseu

15) Burnie, from the Miami Heat: Yes, Burnie’s name is a little too on the nose for list dedicated to the best mascots for stoners, but he’s too perfect not to include. He’s not any sort of animal, and he’s definitely not human; instead, he’s a big-bellied fire-themed monster with a green basketball for a nose. For legal reasons, we can’t say he’s high all the time but he’s high all the time.

https://www.instagram.com/p/BIORpx2AGWB/?taken-by=miamiheat&hl=en

16) Sparky the Dragon, from the New York Islanders: Obviously.

https://www.instagram.com/p/6yLRN0kZQD/

17) The Saint Louis University Billiken The Billiken is supposed to be “a mythical good-luck figure who represents things as they ought to be,” according to the SLU website. Instead, it’s a goddamn walking horror show, like something an angry Dr. Seuss would draw if he were ripped on acid. It’s amazing the people in the pictures below aren’t fleeing in terror. Think of this mascot only after smoking the most relaxing weed you’ve got.

https://twitter.com/SLU_Billikens/status/778393065098612736

https://twitter.com/SLU_Billikens/status/778381133809487872

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What Your Food And Drinks Look Like On A $21,000 Flight Upgrade

Amy Hansen
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What Your Food And Drinks Look Like On A $21,000 Flight Upgrade

Casey Neistat got a first-class upgrade from Dubai to New York. A $21,000 upgrade, to be exact. And like anyone with an iPhone who is blessed with good fortune, he recorded his 14-hour flight.

In addition to a shower, turn-down service, pampering incidentals and, most notably, a motorized door that created his own personal hideaway, he was treated to king-like food and beverage service.

“I just order whatever I want whenever I want it,” says Neistat in the video below. “There’s no meal time. You just tell them to cook you something and they cook it, like being at a real restaurant.” Poor guy. There’s also a mechanical beverage cart. “The fact that that’s motorized is just ridiculous. It’s completely unnecessary.” Check out his ridic transportation situation.

(h/t Viral Videos)

 

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